


Charlotte

by adifferenttateofmind



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Murder House
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-18 11:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21610165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adifferenttateofmind/pseuds/adifferenttateofmind
Summary: He had captured her, and she had captured him. Life is perfect. Until one last act of insanity changes them forever.
Relationships: Tate Langdon/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After much thought and putting this off, I have finally decided to upload my original AHS story here from FanFiction! I hope you all enjoy!

Present Day: 1994

\--

Bang. Bang.

Gunshots.

Charlotte Winters stiffened, her muscles tensing as the heavy footsteps passed. She held her breath until her head swam, then took a deep breath and started again. Her hiding place, a small nook directly under the librarian’s desk, didn’t allow for any view of the events that were happening around her, but the smallest sound would be burned into her memory forever.

“Do you believe in God?”

It was a boy’s voice, rich and cracked. That was obvious.

“Yes.”

The reply came from a girl. Her voice came out as no more than a squeak, sending shivers down Charlotte’s spine.

Bang.

Then she was gone. Her lifeless body thudded against the linoleum like a ragdoll.

“No, no. Please, no!”

Another boy’s voice. A familiar boy. Kevin Gedman. Pleading.

Bang.

And then he was gone too. No thud, but Charlotte could easily imagine the blood trickling steadily from the bullet hole. Too easily.

A choked laugh caught in Charlotte’s throat, terrifying her. Her eyes widened as she covered her mouth. She wasn’t like them. She would never be like them. He had promised her that he would keep her safe. Safe and away from them.

Bang.

Whimpering.

The shots were getting closer now. Charlotte kept her hands clamped tightly over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the bubble of laughter that was threatening to escape her throat. She was shaking now.

Bang.

Bang.

Silence.

Charlotte allowed her eyes to open slowly and peeled her hands away from her mouth. Sirens could be heard in the distance and someone was whistling a tune much too light for the occasion, but it all sounded far away, muffled. She stood on wobbly legs and locked eyes with the killer.

Five corpses, one teacher bleeding out.

And all she could do was stare at him.

“Tate goddamn Langdon.”

The laughter bubbled over as she flung herself into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck. The still warm shotgun fell from his hands as he instinctively placed his hands on her lower back, pulling her closer and shooting her a crooked grin.

“Charlotte Winters, I applaud your acting skills,” Tate laughed, swooping down to press his forehead to hers.

Before she could reply, Tate pushed his lips against hers, sending a rush of heat from her stomach to her toes. Together they ignored the sirens and let the corpses of their fellow students fade into the background. Melting together. Becoming one person. It was only when the teacher started screaming through his adrenaline-filled haze did they step back with sly grins.

“You are a goddamn genius!” Charlotte whooped through her smile as Tate grabbed her hand. The wind whipped through her hair as he led her out of the school. “I love you!”


	2. Chapter 2

Present Day: 1994

\--

Tate sat at the edge of his bed, shirtless and left wearing only his black jeans. Charlotte sat on her knees behind him, her arms looped around his neck. She wore only one of his discarded Nirvana shirts and her black underwear, leaving a trail of kisses up his neck, then along his jawline.

“The world is a filthy place.”

Tate’s voice was sudden and cold. It had been an hour of silence since they had left the school together. An hour of adrenaline-filled passion between the two, broken by nothing more than the occasional muttered curse and muffled ‘I love you’s. Other than that, they were entirely focused on the other. It had been an hour of complete and utter bliss.

“How so?” Charlotte asked as she gently pulled Tate onto his back, letting his head rest in her lap. She placed a light kiss on his forehead, her burgundy hair falling like a curtain on either side of her face. He closed his eyes and folded his hands over his chest, resembling a corpse in a coffin.

“I don’t know.” Tate looked up to meet Charlotte’s pale eyes with his dark ones and gave her a small, sad smile. There was an unnatural fear in his eyes, mixed with the love she had always found there. “There’s just so much pain, y’know? It’s a filthy, goddamn horror show.”

Charlotte hummed throughtfully at her boyfriend’s bluntness. She ran her fingers over Tate’s left wrist, lightly tracing the narrow scars that had been etched there. A few had recently been reopened, still tender and scabbed.

“I love you, Tate.” Charlotte murmured, pressing her lips gently against the criss-crossed scars.

“I love you, Char.” Tate whispered back. He ran his fingers through her hair and pulled her down into an upside-down kiss.

“Promise me you’ll stop.” Charlotte mumbled into his lips, never fully breaking the kiss. She ran her thumb over his wrist again.

Tate sat up, sitting on his knees in front of the still-kneeling Charlotte. He cupped her chin in his hands and stared into her eyes.

“I promise.”

He entwined his fingers with hers, pulling her into another kiss.

Stupid little bitch. He’s killed people with those hands and you know it. They’ve been covered in someone else’s blood and now you’re holding them like everything will be okay. Nothing will be okay. You know it. So close to you. He’s so close, such an easy target. Such a naive little girl.

Charlotte pushed Tate away, covering her ears as the voices rattled through her mind, all different pitches but somehow all at the same time. It only happened when she was in the house, and only when she was with Tate.

“Tell it to go away, Char.” Tate wrapped his arms around Charlotte’s heaving shoulders and pressed his lips to her hair, tears welling in his eyes. “It’ll go away. I promise. Just close your eyes and remember that everything is going to be okay. I love you. Forever always.”

“Go away!” Charlotte shrieked, trying to relax in Tate’s arms. But the voices just hit her, louder and angrier. They took a tighter hold on her. They continued shouting, telling her to get out. To leave. To just forget. NOW.

Bang.

A sudden gunshot went off in her head and the voices were gone. Charlotte’s eyes went wide as her body began to seize. She clawed at Tate’s bare chest and he winced in pain as he pulled her closer to him.

“Charlotte! Char, they’re gone, it’s over. I promised you it would end. Baby, please, they’re gone now.”

Tate wrapped Charlotte in his arms and sobbed, his body shaking as he tried to contain himself. His grip tightened as her body began to relax into his. He pressed his forehead against hers, leaving them only inches apart.

“Tate---”

Charlotte grabbed the back of Tate’s neck and pulled him to her, closing the gap between them with a passionate kiss. They collapsed back onto the bed, their kisses becoming more and more aggressive, molding into each other. Becoming one. Always Tate and Charlotte. Charlotte and Tate.

“I'm not normal, you know.” Tate muttered into the kiss, his hands tugging gently at the hem of his own Nirvana shirt.

“I know.” Charlotte moved away, momentarily breaking their kiss in order to slip the shirt off before crashing back into his embrace, biting at his bottom lip.

“I’m dangerous you know.”

“And I don’t care,” she moaned, pulling him closer.

\--

“You’re the only light I’ve ever known, Charlotte.”

The ceiling fan circled lazily over their heads, blowing cool air gently down onto their entangled, naked bodies. Tate had his arms crossed behind his head, his eyes following the fan’s rotations around and around, never going anywhere. Staying in one place. Staring at nothing. Staring at everything.

Charlotte propped herself up to rest her chin on his pale chest, waiting for him to finish.

“If you love somebody, you should never hurt them. Never. And I don’t want to hurt you, Char. But I’ve done horrible things. I’m afraid of myself. I’ve cheated. I’ve killed.” He was crying now, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes as his fingers clawed into his forehead. “I’ve sinned. I’ve hated. Charlotte, you know it as well as I do, and I can’t do this to you. I don’t want to hurt you next.”

Tate met Charlotte’s eyes, his wet with tears and flashing with sudden anger. He pulled her farther on his chest and closed his eyes, letting his head flop back against the pillows in defeat, still shuddering from trying to contain his sobs. Charlotte ran a hand through his golden hair and gently kissed his neck.

“Tate Langdon,” Charlotte spoke through her kisses. “I love you. I’ll always love you, no matter what we go through together. Nothing you ever do will hurt me.”

“Never leave me, Char.” Tate groaned and wrapped his arms protectively around her lower back. “I’m nothing without you.”

“Never.”

Tate pressed a soft kiss to Charlotte’s head, humming softly as he calmed down. She lifted her head and shot him a sly grin, inching forward until they were nose to nose.

“Let's run away.”

Tate glanced up at his girlfriend, replying with a wolfish grin of his own. “Where did you have in mind?”

“Anywhere.” Charlotte pecked Tate on the cheek and sat up, pulling him up with her. He propped himself up on one elbow and wrapped his arm around her lower back. “We could go wherever you’d like.”

Tate kissed her in reply, a smile still on his face. She tangled her hands in his hair, deepening the kiss. He moved from her mouth to her jaw, down her neck to suck on her collarbone. She moaned and threw her head back, her entire body sparking as he bit down on the tender area, a low growl in his throat, ready to devour her.

Bang.

Tate and Charlotte froze, her hands still in his hair and his hands possessively squeezing her hips. It wasn’t a gun this time, but a car door slamming shut from the front lawn. Shouting soon followed, and Tate’s eyes widened in realization.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Tate jumped out of bed, pulling on his discarded boxers and jeans in record time. Charlotte remained in place, his comforter now wrapped around her bare figure. More car doors could be heard from outside of the house, the voices becoming louder and angrier. Tate ran to the window. He peered out of the blinds and cursed, confirming his suspicions.

“Charlotte, listen to me.” He grabbed her wrists roughly, pulling her out of the bed and against him. His bare chest was clammy against her flushed skin. “Get dressed, go to the closet. Do not come out until it’s safe, do you understand me?”

“Safe? What the hell do---”

“Do you understand me?” His voice was sharp. He looked down into her pale eyes, his dark ones flashing with an intense urgency. “Do not open your eyes.”

Charlotte blinked in agreement, almost frozen in fear. She scooped up Tate’s neglected Nirvana shirt and her discarded jeans, stumbling into the closet. She began to haphazardly dress, her eyes locked on Tate as he paced the room angrily.

“Shit!” Tate punched the wall and ran his fingers through his messy hair, his knuckles now bloodied. He started removing any evidence of Charlotte from the room: tearing down pictures from the walls, throwing her discarded clothing into the back of his dresser. He threw the comforter back onto the bed and slammed his fist into his pillow.

“Tate---” Charlotte tried to speak, her voice caught in her throat. She was scared, all too aware of what was happening. But if she said it out loud, it made it much too real.

“Close your eyes and remember that we are going to be okay,” Tate growled to Charlotte through clenched teeth. He gave her a rough kiss and slammed the closet door shut. A broken slat gave Charlotte a thin view of Tate’s bedroom.

Cursing under his breath, Tate pulled on a long-sleeved blue jumped and sat down on his bed. From her vantage point, Charlotte watched him shove his palms into his face and compose a cocky expression. He never once looked in the direction of the closet.

Bang.

\--

Charlotte kept her eyes closed much longer than she needed to, but she didn’t want to see the aftermath of what had just happened, let alone give it an opportunity to become real. If she kept her eyes closed, everything would be okay.

Tear tracks stained her cheeks, the salty taste mingling with the blood she had drawn from biting the inside of her cheek. The house seemed so much quieter, the silence so thick that it seemed nothing could break it, and the pressure was pushing her to the ground. A weight was settling in the room, and the smell of burning metal lingered in the air.

Tate was gone.

Gone.

It felt like time had stopped, but the continuous, howling sobs from downstairs told her that the world did, in fact, continue spinning. They had taken the bloodstained comforter with the body. The same comforter she wrapped herself in, that she had curled under with him. She crawled out of the closet and collapsed on her boyfriend’s bed.

Her dead boyfriend’s bed.

Charlotte opened her mouth and screamed. Tears started to flow again, but she didn’t care. She drowned out the sobbing from downstairs, but she barely even registered that it had stopped. Charlotte screamed at something. Charlotte screamed at everything. Charlotte screamed for Tate.

Tate, who had been her everything.

Tate, who had rescued her from every disastrous moment.

Tate, who she had given everything to.

Tate, who had promised to never leave.

“Never leave me, Char. I’m nothing without you.”

Charlotte wailed until everything went black.

\--

When she regained consciousness, she found herself in the basement. Her fingers were white as she gripped a glittering razor from Tate’s stash, which was scattered across the floor next to her.

She barely felt like herself. The voices in her head, the ones that had screamed at her to leave, were muffled and loud, talking rapidly until they blended together into a harsh screech that overtook her senses. All she could comprehend was Tate, nodding her on as the voice continued their god-awful screeching.

Do it.

A single voice broke through, but it wasn’t her boyfriend’s rich tone. It was a woman, one she couldn’t place, and one that was flushed away immediately as the screeching started again.

Charlotte had no control of her body. Her right hand held the razor to her left arm, slicing deep. Her face contorted in pain, but she couldn’t find the power to scream. She never stopped, the pain eventually subsiding into a dull throbbing as whatever was controlling her traced the letters into her arm.

T

A

I

N

T

Over and over, deeper and deeper. Blood was splattered against Tate’s Nirvana shirt and was pooling beneath her bare feet as it dripped down from her arm. Her vision was going fuzzy from the rapid loss of blood and she gave in control, letting her arms continued their practiced cutting motions. Her mind was void and it felt like she was floating above herself. Like she was watching a movie of herself.

“You said you would never leave me!” Charlotte screamed at herself, falling to her knees on the blood-soaked ground. The razor clattered to the floor beside her.

A feeling that felt like longing, but was much colder, wrapped itself around her as she sank into the cold, numb feeling of death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Charlotte is dead, what'll happen? Will she join the ghosts in the house? Will she be reunited with Tate? Stay tuned to find out ;)


	3. Chapter 3

Time Unknown: 1994?

\--

Charlotte was nowhere for a long time.

She felt as if her train of thought had derailed in her brain. Nothing could get through. She tried to grab onto anything, any memory, something that would help to keep her sane, but all she could reach were wisps that melted through her fingers. She sat in the darkness as time flickered past, trying to focus on the single word her heart beat out.

Tate.

The word left a strange mixture of sorrow tinged with an overwhelming love. The memory of cool air, warm embraces, and burning metal licked at the edges of Charlotte’s subconscious, but not a single one managed to seep through and take hold. The name had a familiar ring to it, but it made a hollowness ring through her chest and tears prick in her eyes. Charlotte couldn’t muster up a single image of the thing that was keeping her alive.

Nowhere was dark. Images flashed around her, faceless images that made her question what was real and what was not.

A woman screaming, her face contorted in anger.

A boy collapsed on a park bench,

A blonde laying shirtless in bed, jamming his palms into his eyes, covering his face.

The blonde boy appeared often.

That, mixed with the lack of oxygen in the darkness and the feeling of being crushed, left Charlotte in a state of constant panic. Her left arm was beginning to throb and her vision was going hazy again. The images began wobbling as oxygen seemed to stop flowing.

A white light surged in the darkness, as if someone had flicked on a light switch, lurring the images into near nothingness and leaving Charlotte blinded. The light was anything but peaceful and beckoning. It offered a safe haven, but took prisoner to those who entered. It drew in those around it like moths to a light. It fed on those who were weak-willed and easily hurt. Those who sought comfort when it seemed that all was lost.

Those like Charlotte.

The last thing she saw before the light overtook her senses was a beautifully faded blonde woman, waiting to embrace her with open arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot twist!


End file.
